Genetic moderation is needed to debate our food future

GM is now a term loaded with baggage. Scientists must allow for people's objections to show the public there's nothing "spooky" about it

WITH food security firmly on the international agenda, there's a growing appetite to look again at the opportunities promised by agricultural biotechnology.

Scientists working in this area are excited by new techniques that enable them to edit plant DNA with unprecedented accuracy. Even epigenetic markers, which modulate the activity of genes, can now be altered. The promise is to modify crops to make them more nutritious or resistant to disease.

But there's a problem, notably in Europe: genetic modification.

Much of agricultural biotechnology – including conventional breeding – involves genetic modification of one kind or another. But "GM" has come to mean something quite specific, and is loaded with baggage. To many people it means risky or unnatural mixing of genes from widely disparate species, even across the plant and animal kingdoms, to create hybrids such as corn with scorpion genes. That baggage now threatens to undermine mature debate about the future of food production.

It is no longer a simple yes/no choice between high-tech agribusiness and conventional production driven by something ill-defined as more "natural".

The battle lines of this latest wave of agricultural advance are already being drawn. The UK's Biotechnology and Biological Sciences Research Council, for example, is working on a position statement on the new technologies, which it expects to release later this summer.

It is clear that, over the coming years, the general public will have to decide which of these technologies we find acceptable and which we do not.

So where did it all go wrong to begin with? In the late 1990s, when I was reporting on early GM research for the BBC's current affairs programme Newsnight, anti-GM protestors realised that vivid images made good TV and rampaged through fields in white boiler suits destroying trial crops.

On the other side, industry representatives brushed aside public concerns and tried to control the media message, thumping the table in the office of at least one bemused newspaper editor (who went on to co-script a TV drama about a darker side to GM). They also lobbied hard for the relaxation of regulations governing agribusiness.

In the middle was the public, just coming to terms with farming's role in the BSE crisis. There was little space for calm, rational debate. Instead, GM became the cuckoo in the nest of agricultural biotechnology and its industry backers became ogres, shouting down any discussion of alternatives.

As a result, many people remain unaware that there are other high-tech ways to create crops. Many of these techniques involve the manipulation of genes, but they are not primarily about the transfer of genes across species.

But for GM to be discussed alongside such approaches as just another technology, scientists will have to work harder to dispel the public's remaining suspicions.

I recently chaired a debate on biotech at the UK's Cambridge Festival of Plants, where one audience member identified a public unease about what he called the slightly "spooky" aspect of GM crops. He meant those scorpion genes, or fish genes placed into tomatoes – the type of research that helped to coin the phrase "yuck factor".

To my surprise, a leading plant scientist on the panel said she would be prepared to see cross-species manipulation of food crops put on hold if the public was overwhelmingly uncomfortable with it. Ottoline Leyser, director of the University of Cambridge's Sainsbury Laboratory, said she believed valuable GM crop development could still be done even if scientists were initially restricted to species that can swap their genes naturally, outside of the laboratory. An example of this might be adding a trait from one variety of rice to another.

Nevertheless, Leyser remains adamant that there is "nothing immensely fishy about a fish gene". What's more, she added, the notion of a natural separation between species is misplaced: gene-swapping between species in the wild is far more prevalent than once thought.

But Leyser insisted that scientists must respect the views of objectors – even if "yuck" is their only complaint. That concession from a scientist is unusual. I've spoken to many of her peers who think such objections are irrational.

Scientists cannot expect people to accept their work blindly and they must make time to listen. Above all, more of them should be prepared to halt experiments that the public is uncomfortable with. And it's beginning to happen.

Paul Freemont is co-director of the Centre for Synthetic Biology and Innovation at Imperial College London. He designs organisms from scratch but would be prepared to discontinue projects that the public is unhappy about. He says scientists need an occasional reality check.

"We are going to have to address some of the consequences of what we're doing, and have agreements about what's acceptable to society in terms of manipulating biology at this level," Freemont says.

Scientists funded with public money may already feel some obligation to adopt this approach. But those working in industry should consider its advantages too. A more open and engaged conversation with the public could surely benefit the companies trying to sell us novel crop technologies.

Society, for its part, will need to listen to the experts with an open mind. And as we work out how to feed an expanding population, we will need to ask questions that are bigger than "GM: yes or no?"

This article appeared in print under the headline "Genetic moderation"

Susan Watts is a journalist and broadcaster. She was science editor of Newsnight until the post was closed

If you would like to reuse any content from New Scientist, either in print or online, please contact the syndication department first for permission. New Scientist does not own rights to photos, but there are a variety of licensing options available for use of articles and graphics we own the copyright to.